


The Hunt

by HappyDagger



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Negan (Walking Dead), Bottom Daryl Dixon, M/M, Manipulation, Negan (Walking Dead) Being an Asshole, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Daryl Dixon, POV Negan (Walking Dead), Possessive Negan (Walking Dead), Predator/Prey, Top Negan (Walking Dead), did I mention I'm sorry for everything?, happy Negan is happy, honestly I'm not sure how to tag this, miserable Rick is miserable, sorry for everything, the kingdom - Freeform, the saviors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9937364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDagger/pseuds/HappyDagger
Summary: Daryl is hiding from the Saviors in the Kingdom. Trouble comes rolling in.What does it mean to be hunted?





	1. Daryl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TrueOrFalse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueOrFalse/gifts).



Squirrels are so damn stupid. Daryl doesn't mind eating them. 

Lifetimes ago, in that other world, a girl named Brittany stared at Daryl from the next lunch table while her ponytailed friends talked incessantly; bursting in giggles and high-pitched screams. He tried not to notice. She walked over anyhow and poured some M&Ms into her bubblegum pink tipped fingers.

"Why you always wear'n camouflage, Daryl Dixon?" She asked and sat down on the table, right in front of him. 

"For hunt'n," he mumbled. "Whatchu think?"

"You hunt a lot then? My daddy and uncles and some of my cousins go huntin' up by the lake."

Daryl grunted and prodded the Landry High School's idea of meatloaf. 

"You don't hunt deer, though, do you?"

"Course I do."

"How could you! They're so beautiful! They never hurt nobody! What is wrong with you?"

"You eat cow, don't ya?" Daryl mumbled.

"Well, what if... maybe I won't no more."

Daryl shrugged. "People gotta eat."

"But that beautiful creature was alive, then you come along and after moments of agony, it's gone. Dead."

Daryl finally glanced up long enough to tell her, "Deer do hurt people, _Brittany_. They run right into the road and stop to stare at the car speed'n toward 'em. Deer're so fucking stupid they're may as well be dead anyhow."

"Well, shiiit, Daryl. I didn't know you knew my name."

 

Daryl skewered the bits of meat he'd cleaned onto a sharpened twig. 

"Ah, Daryl!" Some big smiling dude with dreadlocks cast a shadow over his small fire. "There you are! Please, come feast with us. I think you'll find our bounty more appetizing then your... uh..." he watched Daryl place one kebab over the fire and take a bite off of one that was cooked. Squirrel tails laid beside his hip, bending in the breeze like dandelions. "Well... consider the invitation open."

"Thanks." Daryl kept eating while the dude walked away into the morning sun. He froze when something caught the corner of his eye. A dog came trotting over, waging it's black tail low and nervously. "Go on."

The dog came closer anyhow and sat next to him. Daryl tossed him a bit of squirrel then stomped out his fire and covered it with dirt.

The dog followed Daryl as he headed back to the woods. "Get!" The dog just came closer, as though he'd been called. "I said _get,_ dog!" 

 

Early that evening, when Daryl emerged from the woods with a fat duck, the dog was trotting happily by his side.

"You didn't say you was a bird'n dog, ha. You must be part retriever or something." Daryl didn't know too much about dog breeds, but he knew mutts were the best kind.

 

Daryl woke up the next morning to someone creeping around his door. He clutched his bow to his chest and slowly rose from his make-shift bed; set up along the same wall as the only door, in the corner where the door swings in so he'd be both aware of and hidden from, any intruder for a few life-saving moments. He shuffled along the wall silently and peered through the blinds. Kids giggled. Darly frowned.

"Hey! What? Whatchu want?"

A boy and a girl, probably would've been in fourth and sixth grade if that were still a thing, were on their knees petting his happy little hunting dog. "What's his name?" the little girl asked in a sing-song voice.

"I dunno!"

"Why didn't you give him a name?" The boy asked.

"No names. I ain't stay'n here. I got my own people."

"I'm Mel-"

"No! NO names! Just!" Daryl slammed the door. 

For whatever reason, the kids looked at one another and seemed to agree they weren't scared and could play with the dog a little longer. However, they did jump when the door flew open again. "Go on! Get out of here." Daryl tossed the dog's stick onto the walkway in front of the apartment he'd been staying in. 

The boy picked it off the floor and the dog jumped up, barked, and padded in a little circle.

"See? That's his favorite. You go on an' throw it for him. Now get."

"You whittled it for him!" the girl cried with a big smile.

"No I didn't. I just took off the damn bark so he wouldn't choke."

"You should give him a collar and take him inside so you don't lose him."

Collar? Daryl scoffed at the stupid suggestion, but he wasn't about to tell a little kid what an idiot he was. "Ain't mine. BYE." He slammed the door and looked around his empty apartment. 

 

Daryl spent the morning making more arrows. 

 

When he went out in the afternoon, the mutt was hanging around. He watched Daryl descend his apartment stairs tentatively.

"Well? Come on, if you gunna!"

His little mutt wagged his tail and came running over. 

 

 

If Daryl were to name this dog, he would obviously name it Hunter. He even looked like a _Hunter_. Too bad some asshole would probably take him when Daryl left and name him something stupid like 'Chauncy' or 'Mittens' on account of his white feet.

When they were tracking a flock of starlings, his dog suddenly went stiff. The fur on his haunches rose into spikes as he started a low, grumbling growl. Daryl slid behind a tree and surveilled his surroundings. He heard a twig snap in the direction his dog was looking. Just a fucking walker.

"Good boy." Daryl put an arrow between its white eyes. 

 

He took the dog to a little brook and they both drank the cool water. When a bullfrog leapt from behind a tree root, the dog yipped and stumbled back, his hind legs falling into the water. 

Daryl laughed. "You dumb dog! You gonna get all muddy." He could've sworn that dog looked embarrassed and laughed even harder.

 

"Oooo yeah. We had us a good hunt today, boy!" They'd got themselves four fucking starlings. He could give some to the cult and feel a little less like a burden.

His mutt a-wowed and trotted along beside him, then went stiff again and sunk a little lower.

"What is it?" Then Daryl heard the trucks roaring in. A sound he knew so well, it made him sick.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Negan

"Well, fucking, well what the fuck do we have here?" Negan jumped out of his open truck door with Lucille over one shoulder. Right on time, the self-styled King of this god damned madhouse came running out. He wasn't confused at all. He was determined and scared shitless as far as Negan could tell.  _Fucking bingo,_ he thought almost bitterly. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Ezekiel started shouting. "You are not to come in here! You've committed a grave trespass against us!"

"Tell me, somebody, please; does he  _really_ fucking talk like this?" Negan's saviors laughed around him but the Kindom...ers? -ites? Whatever the fuck it was, Negan didn't give a shit. Fleeing prey, scattering and hiding; that's all they were, really. And the fucking clown in front of him was all these poor shitheads had to guide and protect them. "Nice to see you too, Zeke. I think you know why I barged in. Don't be so fucking coy."

Ezekiel gritted his teeth, barely maintaining his last shred of composure. "No. I have not a clue. Please elucidate."

"Oooo! There's a fancy word! Let me pull a fucking dictionary right out of my asshole so I can KEEP UP! Fu-uck!" Negan laughed. "Someone, seriously, tell me is this guy for real? Yes or no?"

"WHY are you here?"

"Well, shit. Let me put it this way, Zeke, my man; I am basically here to see how good I am at reading people. I used to be really good- _real fucking good_. But you know, civilization crashes, you loose all your Tony Robbins tapes, can't watch Oprah anymore... fuck! Maybe I'm getting rusty. Or," he swiveled around to stare down all the idiots hiding behind tomato stocks and laundry lines, which flapped in the wind, "maybe, just  _maybe_ , I saw a flash of glorious truth in ole Rick's eyes when I asked him where the **FUCK** my bride and prize were, and _your_ god damned name came up on the long list. So? Let's try the easy way first because, god damn it, you can't say your pal Negan ain't fair." Negan stopped smiling a moment. "Where are they?"

"I don't even know your bride!" Ezekiel spat. 

So there it was. Daryl had to be here. That means they've been on edge and may be ready to fight. Negan whistled and raised his hand to wave in the big guns. As his Saviors climbed their trucks and encircled the frozen dipshits, too busy shitting their pants to run or fight, Negan paced, shaking his head. "What a shame. What a shame. Now, I just hate being lied to. Don't I, Dwight?"

"That's right, Negan."

"Yes, sir! That is right. But Dwight here seems to think you're an honest man, Zeke. Shit, do you see the way he looks at you?" Negan thumbed over his shoulder at his mangled face friend, who looked far too horrified all the sudden. That would need clearing up later. "So I will take you at your word, your uh 'majesty'. If Daryl or Sherry  _are_ here  -without your knowledge, I'm sure- I think I can get them to come say hello. It will cost me a fucking arm and a leg; but not mine. BRING HIM OUT!"

Tara and Simon brought Rick's bound body out from the back of a jeep. 

"His arm! Get it? Arm and a leg? Eh, you'll get it when you see the second part. Hey! Simon, get that rag out of his mouth so he can make some noise."

"He's not here!" Rick started yelling, right out of the gate. 

"Yeah. Just like that, Ricky boy. Only, I can't hear you quite clear enough."

"WE DON'T KNOW WHERE DARYL IS! HE'S PROBABLY IN  **THE FUCKING WOODS**!"

Negan rolled his eyes. "Wow. How could I ever break _that_ fucking code? Yeah, yeah. I'm sure he'll run away while your arm is getting hacked off. Good thinking, Rick. Gavin, hatchet."

Gavin doesn't have much stomach for violence, but he can think sensibly and does as he's told. "Here you go."

"You, you can't-" Ezekiel began.

"THANK YOU, Gavin. Relax, Zeke. I ain't hurting your people, am I? I'm just using one serial killer, that's my friend Rick here, to flush out another. I'm doing you and yours a god damned favor."

Ezekiel seemed unable to argue with that.

"So? What do we say?" 

Before Ezekiel could answer, an arrow whizzed by Negan's head, cutting the very edge of his ear. "Fuck!" Negan laughed. THERE he is! Daryl? Darrryl? If you kill me, what do you think will happen to Rick? Can you _really_ kill us all? Fuck, man, I got people in _armored motherfucking vehicles_. You gonna shoot your fucking sticks at them? Is it worth it? Rick dying? These innocent people dying?" He winked at Ezekiel to reassure him about that last threat. Negan doesn't make a habit of killing women and children, but that dumbass Daryl sure as fuck won't count on it.

The air was still and silent. 

"Just run!" Rick cried at last.

"Fine. Have it your way." Negan smiled and brought his sharp hatchet down. "Fuck yes! LOOK at that clean line! God damn it! That never gets old, boy!"

Simon clapped for him and laughed as Rick made those 'ah-ah-ah' sounds some people stumble over like a toddler before a tantrum. As much as Negan liked Rick, and he really did, he still got a half-chub hearing those inhuman sounds come out of his stubborn mouth. 

An arrow hit Negan's shoulder, which he was not expecting. The force made him stumble back, but he recovered his balance easily. "Aw, cammawn, Daryl! Now, I don't want to kill ole Rick and certainly not like this. YOU want to be  _loyal_. You want to be self-sacrificing and you do **not** want Rick to die. If I am right in my suppositions -you like that word, Zeke?- then simply give yourself up before your bestest buddy bleeds the fuck out."

After another moment of silence, Negan switched the hatchet to his left hand. "Now it's going to be fucked as shit. Please don't take this as true example of my handiwork, Rick. Your friend just put us in such an unfortunate situation. Regardless, I sure as fuck do apologize for the mess."

"ENOUGH!" Daryl threw down his bow and came walking into the clearing with a dog of all things. 

"Well, alright then. Tend to that scratch, would ya? And someone help me get this fucking arrow out of my FAVORITE LEATHER JACKET, _Daryl!"_


	3. Hunter

"Rick."  Daryl dropped to his knees and grabbed Rick's sweaty head. "Stay with me. GET HIM A TOURNIQUET!"

Negan picked a piece of popcorn out of his teeth with his thumbnail. "A what now?"

Daryl jumped up and shoved Negan, who swayed and grinned as if delighted by a cool breeze. " **DO** SOMETHIN'!"

"Ah, Daryl, don't I always?" Negan's face went dark. He made a swift motion and everything went black.

 

The first time he woke, Daryl thought he was being eaten. "AH," he gasped and jerked back.

He thought someone rumbled, "He sure likes you." Then he passed out again.

 

The floor rocked, the walls spun, the floor hit Daryl's side. He groaned and rolled, lightly clutching his ribs where they stabbed him each time he inhaled. "Rrrick?"

Negan rolled his eyes and sighed. "Jesus fucking Christ. How about a fucking 'ttttthanks' for, oh I don't fucking know: not killing your dumbass, and saving that bullheaded jackass's life. Any of that? No?" Negan dropped his half-eaten apple on his small table and started pacing his room. "How about one fucking reason why I shouldn't kill you? Huh?"

"Do it then," Daryl growled. He tried to rise again, but couldn't find his way up the wildly tilting wall. "Ain't begg'n."

"Oh, no?" Negan pursed his lower lip, considering that. "Let's try, one time, the easy way. Just for shits and giggles. Where is Sherry?" The way Daryl's head snapped and his swollen eyes popped open couldn't be faked by a far better actor than his hillbilly ass. _Shit._

"Ha!"

Negan stopped pacing.

"Haha ha! I don't know! Man, I might have to lie but I can't tell you what I don't know. You just did all that shit for fucking NOTHIN'."

Negan shook his head and tsk tsked. "Darrryl," Negan scolded as he knelt in front of his captive audience. "Now how can you say that you're nothing?"

It was like he had sucked the smile right off of Daryl's face, and that made him laugh. Negan pulled his chair skidding over across the wood floor and dug his flask out of his jacket. “I sure as shit do appreciate you not aiming for my head.” He took a swig then offered Daryl the flask.

“Where’s Rick?”

“Ugh,” Negan rolled his head back. “God damn it! Do you hear yourself? _Riiiiiiiieeeeeek_ this and _Riiiiiiiiieeek_ that. You sound like an alley cat getting fucked by a pitbull.”

“I asked a question.”

“I’ve been asking a question. The same damn question for months now; when will Daryl break? When will Daryl break? I keep waiting and waiting and asking myself, _when the fuck will Daryl break?!”_ Negan tossed the flask in Daryl’s face. “Ole Rick’s just fine. I have to hand it to him, he’s a tough little fist fuck. I feel I can trust him a whole lot more now that he’s unarmed and I have his right hand man again. Though sometimes I do have to twist his wrist to keep him from doing something underhanded.”

“IS THIS A JOKE TO YOU?” Daryl tried to rally himself upon his indignation, but must have had few too many kicks to the head. Maybe he’d stay this way; like one of those goats that can’t keep up right.

“Fuck yes it is! Learn to pay a-fucking-ttention! Ah, hell, drink something if you’re just gonna stumble and fall anyway. You need something for the pain, don’t ya?”

Daryl hesitantly took the flask and unscrewed the top.

“Yeah, drink up. It’s all a fucking joke! May as well laugh, Daryl.”

Daryl coughed and winced at the sting of the whiskey. “You’re a joke,” he mumbled.

“Woa!” Negan burst out laughing. It hurt when his shoulder shook. “Got me.”

Daryl frowned and turned away. His face was hot... probably from the whiskey.  

There was a whine and scratch at the door.

“Shit! I nearly fucking forgot!”

Daryl heard the creak of wood and leather then nails clicking across the tile. Then that crazy mutt jumped on Daryl’s chest and started licking his face and whining.

His churning stomach dropped and went ice cold.

“Damn, that dog loves the fuck out of you! What a loyal little guy, huh? Just makes my heart shit sunshine.”

“I don’t know this animal!”

Negan gingerly touched his shoulder when it shook with booming laughter. He slid into the wall and sank to the floor. “Ladies and gentleman of the jury! My client clearly cannot even identify what kind of animal we have here. Therefore, he demonstrably has no prior knowledge or relationship _with_ said canine. You get it then, huh? That seems uncharacteristically quick of you, my friend.” Negan’s eyes danced while the poor mutt paced in tiny nervous circles around his chosen owner.

“I don’t know what the fuck you talk’n ‘bout,” Daryl grumbled. _“Git dawg!”_

"Aw, give up the act, already! Do I look like I’m hiding a motherfucking Oscar under my sweaty ballsack? You called for him when he was licking on you on the drive home. So either your scruffy head was kicked in beyond functioning, or you understand that I plan on keeping your dog here to keep you from running away and break’n my heart all over again.”

Negan straightened himself then came barreling down on Daryl with a sharp grin. "That's what you are for me if the metaphor is fucking lost on you; Rick's loyal dog. And sure enough, he will do anything to keep you from getting hurt. But now I need you for something else, Daryl. I lost a fucking wife when you left."

Daryl scooted back away until he hit the wall. "I don't care about that damn thing. It's just a dumb animal, I said!"

Negan's grin withered into a frown. "Really?"

"Yeah!"

"So I can just kill it? Right here? Right now?"

Daryl struggled to swallow and shrugged with a forced huff. "Just shoot him for all I fucking care."

"Shoot him?! Hell, what fun would that be? I don't think Lucille has ever had the good fortune to pet a puppy." Negan winked and stretched lazily toward the counter where his bat lied. 

Hunter dipped and wagged his low hanging tail anxiously, looking back and forth between the two men, like he knew what was happening. 

"Don't."

Negan froze. "What was that?"

"Please don't." 

Negan slowly turned back around emptied handed and smiling. 

Daryl sunk when Negan climbed over him and ripped his shitty vest off. His sleepy eyes grew wide when Negan freed his stiff cock.

"Daryl," Negan whispered sweetly. _"I think I just heard you break."_

 

Hunter curled up in a ball under Negan's table; in spite off the grunts and whimpers, secure knowing this was home at last.

 


End file.
